


Sunflower

by BeecheyIsland



Category: British Actor RPF, British TV Celebrities RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Gender-neutral Reader, Other, POV First Person, Present Tense, Reader-Insert, Tobias is MUCH younger (in his late 20s), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but still has those gorgeous cheek lines, the few tobe stans who will (hopefully) read this: i love you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25803763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeecheyIsland/pseuds/BeecheyIsland
Summary: Your name is Sam Callahan. For the two years of you bachelor degree, you've seen a certain English professor around the university campus. Now, in your first year of your masters in English studies, that professor is offering tutoring sessions, and you've signed up for them. Will the crush you've nursed for the past two years be reciprocated?(A short fluff fic)
Relationships: Tobias Menzies/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to Susan, who put this idea in my mind in the first place, and who made drunk me cry by sending a photo of tobi my way. also who accepts the chaos of thirsting, and adds more fuel to the fire. <3
> 
> a HUGE thank you to Autumn, who has taught my uneducated self how a uni normally works. you're amazing, thank you so much!!
> 
> and, of course, to the tobe stans: we may be few, but you are a group of incredible individuals and you all deserve the world. thank you for being with me as i fell down the "loving tobias menzies a lot" hole. it's been a fun ride, that's for sure!!!

“Sam.”

The deep voice cuts through your harried writing, your notebook looking as if someone had decided to grab three black pens and scrawl the tips simultaneously across the lined paper. “Huhn?” you respond, as if in your dormitory responding to your roommate.

Raising your head, you look down to the bottom floor of the small lecture hall, you see your professor standing behind the wooden podium, elbows resting on the surface as he leans forward. His gaze is only on you - scrutinising your face, and the furious blush already creeping up your cheeks.

“I asked a question. Can you repeat what it was?”

If a pin dropped, right at this moment, it could be heard. Hand tightening around your pen, you answer in a small voice: “No, professor. I was… I-”

“Too busy writing. I know.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve been singled out by the professor for not paying attention. It’s become a habit in his tutoring sessions; you can’t help your studios notetaking, after all. Besides, he should see it as a _positive_ that you’re not paying attention by notetaking, instead of staring at your phone.

You see a small smile quirk his mouth at the corner; finally, he takes his eyes off yours to address the rest of your cohort. A breath slips out between your tightly-pursed lips, a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Undeniably, there’s a warmth in your chest after he looked at you, and you alone. Undeniably also is the fact that you weren’t scribbling just to be studious. In fact, you heard his question just fine, and would have been able to answer it off the bat without a second thought.

He doesn’t need to know that, though. Even now as he answers his own question the small smile is still present on his face, and every once in a while when his gaze slides over you, your heart jumps, and the small smile is fuelled a little further.

Of course, students crushing on their professors isn’t something that’s new. You’ve heard some other people saying they feel the same way about him - he holds himself with an assured air, his public speaking voice always bolstered and strong; he presents himself like he’s a man who can recite all of Shakespeare’s thirty-seven plays in his sleep. Maybe he can; it’s certainly something he’s passionate about doing.

Your mind is wandering again. You give yourself a mental slap to bring you out of your tween infatuation - if this was a movie, it would be a romcom. Further proving that thought, you suddenly realise your head is resting itself on your closed left fist, your right hand still poised with pen to the paper.

_Bloody stupid._

The rest of the session passes by quickly. Unable to stomach the idea of being humiliated in front of the others in the hall twice in a row, you keep your pen far away from your hands, and quell any urge that arises to take notes again. Hopefully your horrible memory will serve you later when you get back to your dorm to summarise the lecture.... even though the chances are low.

“Right. Make sure your notes are as good as Sam’s, and you might just pull through this end-of-semester exam. I’ll see you all for the next session.”

Some people chuckle and glance your way at his dismissal, beginning to pack up their things. The end of the professor’s tutoring sessions, on a Friday, marks the beginning of your weekend. He’s well-respected, so much so that a good crowd of about thirty signed up for his tutoring sessions this semester, for your masters years as English majors.

Regardless of the urge to get out as fast as possible so minimal people notice the more furious blush on your cheeks, you take your time packing your things up. You don’t have to wait too long, luckily, and within a couple of minutes the hall is mostly empty, save for the few stragglers who are lined up in front of you to talk to the professor.

Your mind shuts off as you wait patiently. As well as your note-taking, your chats with the professor every Friday afternoon since the beginning of his tutoring sessions have become commonplace. He began them the previous semester, the first semester of your masters. Prior to these sessions, you never had the chance to meet him, but you saw him around the campus in passing. He caught your eyes the moment you first saw him as a young, fresh-faced nineteen-year-old, ready to immerse yourself into the world of literature.

Which means the last two years of studying for your bachelors degree was spent nursing the most painful crush of your _life_.

You open your mouth, but he stops you before you can apologise.

“I’m sorry for doing that to you, Sam. I promise I’ll try not to do it next Friday afternoon.”

_Good lord, can’t this blush just piss off?!_

“I- it’s no worries at all, professor. Trust me, I deserve it.”

He chuckles, reaching into his briefcase leaning against the side of the podium to pull out a leaf of papers.

“You really don’t. It’s just me being silly. Please, let me know if it ever makes you uncomfortable at all - I don’t exactly want to embarrass any students out of a tutoring program.”

“It would be a first though, wouldn’t it?”

“Hmph. I suppose you’re right. Maybe I should keep doing it.”

A comfortable but awkward silence settles. He holds the papers in his long fingers, his gaze only for you.

The familiar warmth is in your chest. The small smile is still in front of you, even larger than before. The strong vertical lines running down his cheeks curve pleasantly, accenting the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. There’s a reason why you love to make him smile - his eyes close together in such a way that it makes you giddy. Everything strong about him is still there when he smiles, but instead the strength bolsters the kindness emanating from his features.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat, bumping the pages together on the podium so they’re aligned together. Once again, you slap yourself mentally. You know you’re being incredibly obvious, boldly staring at his face, but you can’t help it, despite your best efforts to do so. To you, he’s cut from the finest stone, so finely sculpted even Michaelangelo’s works would be rendered obsolete.

“This is a good start to your thesis. At the moment, you’ve got the general idea of how to get there. Just make sure you take it slow, since the examinations are coming soon. I’d much rather see you focused on studying for them than completing your thesis.”

You look down to the marked papers in your hands, flicking through them to see neat annotations over the typed paragraphs and in the margins.

“Professor, how’s your writing this neat? If I were you I’d be scrawling everywhere, honestly,” you remark, glancing up to see him once again leaning against the podium.

“What, like your notebook?” he shoots back, eyes glinting with mischief. Feinting shock, gasp loudly, eyes widening.

You can’t believe you’ve managed to get so close to the professor - of course, you’ll never push to do anything romantic towards him; the taboo nature of a student and professor’s relationship is enough to dissuade you from trying anything. What you have is a camaraderie together, and nothing more.

He makes you smile and feel good, when sometimes you’re not in a good state. You hope you do that for him too.

“Well, thank you so much for this, professor. I’ll get studying for the exam right away, I promise!”

He drums his fingers on the podium, and flashes you a brilliant, kind, warm smile. “Call me Tobias, Sam. Make sure you have a great weekend.”

You go silent, mind whirring fast. Before the pause gets too pregnant, you swallow and smile.

“You too, Tobias.”

  
  


It’s a Saturday night, and your best friend, Meg, is staring at you, shocked into silence, from across the table at the local pub that’s a short walk from the university campus.

“You got PERMISSION?! To call him by his name?! Sam, that’s amazing! Oh my GOD!”

Meg’s always been incredibly vocal. Long, brunette curls frame her face, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She smacks you on the arm when you don’t answer, smile so wide it looks as if it’s going to take over her whole face.

You met her in your first year; your very first lecture, you managed to spill a fruit smoothie onto her, seated in front of you as you two were some of the first to arrive that day. She was angry with you, but it soon turned into the thing you cherish about her most; she’s snappy and quick, always prepared to defend you to her dying breath. Also, she’s terrifying when she wants to be.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did! Crazy, right?” you exclaim, her energy infecting you with the joy she’s feeling for you. Unable to keep in her chair, she begins bouncing in excitement, clapping her hands together.

You slap her when the people at the table next to you glance across to see what the fuss is.

“Okay, so. I’m picturing some nice dates in a museum, maybe a picnic at the local sunflower fields… and then, if everything goes wellll…”

Her American accent trails off expectantly; she pauses and waits for you.

“A wedding,” you finish lamely, unable to stop the embarrassed smile on your lips.

“YES!” she squeals, launching herself upwards. You giggle as she realises just how loud she’s become, and sits herself down with sheepish glances to the people scattered through the pub.

“Look, I’m here for whatever you choose. You need moral support? I gotcha, boo. Cheerleader? Fashion designer? Personal hitman if he breaks your heart?”

“Meg, shut up!” you sigh, rubbing your face in your hands.

“What? I’m just letting you know, Sam. Those are the ground rules!”

With an eye roll, you take a sip from your cup of water. “Look, even if nothing happens, he’s definitely not a heart-breaker. He just doesn’t have the energy around him.”

Now it’s Meg’s time to roll her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what you say, he’s “Mr. Perfect” and all that, but…”

Her eyes are on something across the pub. A wide grin spreads across her face, wider than you would have ever thought, and she grabs your arm tight.

“Ow!” you exclaim, jumping as her fingers dig in. “Meg, what the-”

“Shut up and turn around!” she snaps, eyes big with excitement. You oblige, twisting in your seat, and your heart stutters in your chest, encompassed by _that_ warm feeling once again.

Professor Menzies - Tobias - has just walked up to the bar, and offers a kind smile to the bartender, speaking kindly to her. As she leaves to grab his drink, you can see him clear his throat, pulling his wallet out from one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

Oh my _god_. His outfit is so plain, but seeing him in something other than a long coat and dress pants is making your brain short-circuit. A small beige scarf is tied snugly around his neck, and you can just see the grey jumper he wears underneath the jacket. He’s missing his usual brown briefcase, though, and it feels like seeing something you shouldn’t be seeing. Which is stupid to think, because of course he would want to relax on a Saturday night after a week teaching.

“Ohmygod what are you DOING!” Meg squeaks in your ear.

“What do you mean, ‘What are you doing’? I’m just looking!”

Your incredulous tone doesn’t deter Meg from embarrassing you when she urges, “If you wanna hear those wedding bells, then go for it! And, before you ask, Danny’s gonna be here soon, so you can’t sit with me as an excuse! Go!”

She practically pushes you out of your chair; luckily, you catch yourself and glare at her in response. You heed her words, though, and pat your pockets to make sure you’re not missing any of your belongings. With a deep breath in, you start walking.

It seems like an eternity passes as you walk closer and closer to Tobias. Heart thumping, you come up to the side of him; he’s now holding a schooner of beer, taking a sip from the glass. You have to force your eyes away from his jawline, which the pub’s dim lighting made look absolutely picturesque.

“Tobias! Hey!”

The words fall out before you can stop them. Tobias, taken by surprise, turns and swallows quickly; when he sees you, his face breaks out in a smile.

“Sam!” he greets warmly, moving towards you. Your mind stops functioning as he wraps his arm around you in a quick hug.

He smells like a summer’s day. His leather jacket, a little cold from being outside, warms you right up; he is slightly taller than you, so his hug is like a bear’s.

Before he pulls away, you wrap your arms around him in return. When you pull apart, the smile is still on his lips. A smile is now on your lips, too, and your cheeks are flaming.

You both fall silent. What do you say to start a conversation, again? Your mind certainly doesn’t know.

“So,” Tobias starts, his voice gravelly, “What brings you here? Hanging out with friends?”

He sips his beer, eyes only for you. “I, uh. Yeah. My friend, Meg, and her girlfriend. We normally come out here weekly just to have a few and let loose. Not too much, though, I do like to be responsible.”

With a little smile, Tobias swallows and sets his glass down, leaning against the wooden counter. “That’s good! I’m glad you’re giving yourself some time off, Sam. You deserve it; you work yourself too hard.”

Unable to stop yourself, you snort and laugh. Tobias’ eyebrows raise, mouth quirking upwards at the corner.

“Sorry, I just… I should be working more, you know?” you clarify, following his actions and leaning an elbow on the wooden counter too.

“Nope. Not at all. You’re an exemplary student, and I’m not just saying that because you’re here. It’s true.”

You can never take compliments well. Tobias definitely knows this - before, when he’s sung praises about practice essays or presentations of yours, you’ve never taken the praise to heart. Maybe it’s the atmosphere of the pub, the lighting, the way you feel like you’re floating, or the way he gazes at you with unabashed earnesty and warmth, that makes you take his words to heart.

“Thank you…” you murmur, voice small. “That means… more than you could know.”

He lowers his head to meet your downcast gaze. “Don’t say thank you if you know it’s true. You have so much potential, Sam. Those doubts in your mind, try not to pay them too much attention, hmm?”

You open your mouth to respond, to try and continue the conversation, but Tobias’ name gets called out by a group of three men sitting close by. He gives a wave and a smile, and turns to you apologetically.

“Sorry, Sam. Got to go say hello… I’ll see you around?”

You smile. “Yeah, I’ll see you around, Tobias.”

Feeling as if you’re in a dream, you walk back to where Meg now sits with her girlfriend, Danny. They both pause in their intense conversation, presumably about you and Tobias, and look at you.

A pause.

“Well?!” Meg blurts out, making Danny jump. “The wedding bells?”

A slow smile spreads across your lips, making your rosy cheeks warm considerably. “Yeah, the wedding bells are still on.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cliches on cliches on cliches!! not beta-read bc i am an impatient dumbass :')  
> 

Your phone chimes with a ten-minute warning mark. Deep in concentration, you barely hear it as the practice essay practically flows from your mind and onto the paper. This is probably your fourth draft, the three you’ve done over the last day not even coming close to your standards. But this one seems right on the bat.

Time flies past, the next ten minutes gone in a snap of your fingers. Heaving a sigh, you turn the alarm off and rest your head on the table with a  _ thud _ . The school stress you remember feeling two, maybe three, years ago with exams and assignments is nothing compared to what you’re feeling now. Even the stress present in your bachelor years seems like a cakewalk compared to tonight’s bundle of nerves.

The exams are in three weeks. The tutoring sessions have been a huge help in regards to your English Studies exam; English has always been a bit of a sore spot for you education-wise, but the passion you feel for the subject and, particularly, poetry overrules your distaste for the subject overall. So, you’ve been meeting with Tobias almost every second day.

It’s a Tuesday night, and the university library is empty. Thankfully, the first floor is opened to any student with an identification card late at night. It’s two-thirty in the morning, but your insomnia and the stress you feel is forcing you away from any sense of exhaustion you might have had normally.

Per your post-exam ritual, you stand and begin to move your body, swinging your arms in circles and walking away from the mess of the desk to clear your mind.

Walking through the modern space, along deep blue and turquoise carpet, you meander along the shelves of the history section, eyes flitting over spines and titles of books but not truly seeing. Your mind is so mentally exhausted that it doesn’t register the whistling coming around the corner of the bookshelf in the aisle, and you slam your swinging hand violently into a stack of books someone is holding.

“AAH!” you scream, launching backwards. The books, hardcover and paperback alike, clatter to the ground with thumps and the sound of rustling pages. Your heart jumps when you see who you slammed into.

Tobias stands in shock, arms still in the position of holding the books, and his mouth pursed in a silent whistle. A second passes as the both of you struggle to get past the shock of the collision.

Tobias is the first to break his frozen pose. “Jesus!” he sighs, hands coming up to run down his face. “Sam, it’s two-thirty in the morning! What are you doing here?”

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Forcing your voice to work, you stammer, “Uh… s- studying?”

Eyebrows raised, those beautiful wrinkles making their appearance on his forehead, Tobias blinks in response. Immediately feeling ashamed at his judgement, you look down to the books scattered across the floor to avoid his gaze… even though you don’t want to look away from his eyes, and those round glasses of his that rarely make an appearance at his tutoring sessions that you love so much.

Crouching down, your hands scramble to stack the books together, smoothing out the paperbacks and the now-creased pages of the hardbacks. You look down at the titles, smiling, then look up to see Tobias has mirrored your movements and crouches in front of you, picking up the books with far less fervour than you just did.

Your heart stutters. He’s close again - that night, in the pub… the hug you shared with him, it’s been on your mind every waking moment the last three weeks, torturously so. Tonight he wears a plain red wool jumper, with deep-blue jeans and cheap slip-on black shoes, his leather jacket tied around his waist. His hair is ruffled, as if he’s been running his hands through it in concentration, maybe even frustration.

He glances up and notices you looking.

_ Oh my god, look away! Look away! _

For some strange reason, you’re frozen. Your body is urging you to move, even to just avert your eyes, but you can’t. It would be so easy to reach out and touch his hand, his arm. Some sort of physical connection with him is what you’ve been yearning for recently, both in your sleeping dreams and daydreams.

Both of you are barely breathing. Closer, in the pale light of the library, the gold flecks buried deep in his irises flash as his eyes break their contact, and glance downwards at your… lips?

Surely you were just imagining that glance. Surely so. There was no way he could be wishing for the same thing as you right now. It was a trick of the light, something your delirious mind conjured up to cope with the lack of sleep the last couple of nights.

Where you are in the aisle is secluded from any outsiders; books surround you with their signature smell you adore so much. But a new smell is now present - that smell of a summer’s day with a hint of sunflowers; it floats to you, wrapping around you in its familiar warmth. You can picture the sunflower field near the university, flowers raising their faces to the heavens as warmth basks their soft leaves and stems… you can picture  _ him _ in the field, as bright as the yellow petals, looking at you with a warm smile as his hand is outstretched to you, in a silent invitation:  _ join me _ .

“Sam…?” he whispers, eyes searching your own.

“I…”

Once again, you can’t talk. You don’t think he can, either.

Locked in this position, you don’t know how much time is passing. You notice all the features of him you never have before - the features of his skin, pock marks, the lines on his throat…

Feeling an incredible amount of self-restraint, you finally bring your eyes away from his and look down at your hands that still hold the books. Wordlessly, you hold them out to him; he places the book he’s holding on top of the pile, and moves his hands to take the pile away from you.

Your hands brush.

It feels as if you receive a zap of electricity, even though the idea is unrealistic.

You sense him go still.

Once again, you both stop. And hardly breathe. Because the warmth emanating from his hands is so intoxicating you feel as if your world is spinning; you’ve long imagined how those fingers would feel on your skin, tracing patterns with a feather’s touch.

He hesitates, pads of the digits barely touching your knuckles.

Your breath catches.

Because now he’s covered your smaller hands with his large ones.

And it’s the best feeling in the world.

Warmth blossoms from the contact, first from his touch, then rushing through the rest of your body. His fingers tighten an imperceptible amount; if every nerve on your body wasn’t as highly strung, you wouldn’t have noticed the movement.

“Your hands are so calloused,” you remark softly, eyes slightly wide as you once again look up to him, to see his own swimming with tumultuous emotions.

You can tell what he’s going to say next, and you dread it.

“Sam… we shouldn’t…”

Even though he’s rejecting you, even though he’s waging a war in his mind, his hands never move; in fact, they once again tighten on your own, perhaps subconsciously.

A shock is in your mind - what if he’s been thinking the same thing? Eyeing you from afar? You don’t want to admit it but… you’ve noticed his closeness in the personal catch-ups recently. Maybe he  _ is  _ feeling the same. Maybe that glance was  _ real _ .

Finally, with incredible restraint, you slip your hands out from under his. The tension between the two of you snaps, but your nerves are still afire from the contact of his hand, tingles coursing through your entire body.

You stand, and he follows suit, eyes never leaving yours. Reality is starting to set in; covered from prying eyes amongst books and pages, your interactions together are safe, particularly late at night. Once you step outside, though, and into the full view of anyone outside the library, you have to let all of it go.

“I won’t tell anyone, Tobias. I promise,” you murmur, boldly meeting his gaze.

His eyes shutter, travelling to the floor. “Yes. That’s… ahem. It’s best. I won’t say anything either.”

“I mean… it’s not like my career would be on the line,” you joke. He cracks a smile.

Just like that, the tension dissipates. Tobias follows you back to the absolute mess of the desk, looking down at the scrawled essays you’ve been writing the last day or so. “I’m assuming this is for English Studies?” he muses, placing the pile of books down and running his finger along the sentences you’ve written as he reads them.

“Yeah, they’ve been what I’ve been working on the last couple of days, after your session on Friday. This one, “ you collect the six pages, written on front and back, “is my latest. I feel like I’ve really hit the mark on it. Got it done tonight.”

Tobias takes the pile from you, skim-reading, long fingers deft in their handling of the papers. While he’s assessing the essay, you take your turn to look at the stack of books he’s collected.

Unable to help yourself, you smile at the titles.

“History? For an English professor?” you remark, holding up one of the books in your hand. “‘ _ Culloden: Great Battles _ ’. And books on...” your eyes squint, “An expedition?”

He has a slight smile on his lips as he looks up from his reading. “A man can have interests outside of his work field, Sam. Both are incredibly interesting topics regarding Britain’s history. If you’re ever in the mood to study something else-”

“Eugh!” you shudder. “I’ve done enough study to last me the rest of my life. And that’s only for one exam. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Can’t say I didn’t offer,” he murmurs back, looking down to the essay once more. He’s on the back of the fourth page now, eyes now more than skimming your words.  _ It’s a miracle he can even read anything there _ , you think glumly, moving to stand on the other side of the table, pushing your chair out of the way to begin cleaning up your mess.

A comfortable silence settles between you, the gentle sounds of your rustling paper calming your frayed nerves a bit. Admittedly, now with the chance to relax for a moment, you’re beginning to feel the exhaustion kick in. A heavy sigh leaves your lips, and you rub your eyes as you yawn.

“Sam?” Tobias asks, papers lowering.

“Sor- sorry prof- Tobias,” you yawn, shaking your head slightly. You blink blearily at him, rubbing your eyes some more. “I haven’t really been sleeping the last couple of days. Insomnia’s kicked in, and I’ve just been doing more of this crap.”

Sensing your exasperation, he seems to decide that now wouldn’t be the best time to discuss your work with you. “Right, then,” he states, beginning to stack all the pages together now you’ve packed your writing materials away. “Let’s get this cleaned up and get you back to your dormitory, hm?”

A mumbled “Sure.” is all that comes out of your mouth as you move to sort the four essays into their respective piles.

“Your latest one is spectacular, Sam. You’ve truly improved so much over the last lot of weeks.”

“Hmph. I wish. It won’t be enough to give me a good mark, just you watch.”

“Hey. Sam. Sam, stop for a minute.”

“Sam.”

One of his hands is on yours. Your heart jumps in your chest; the way he did that with no hesitation makes it seem like it’s second-nature to him, like he didn’t even think about it. You drag your eyes up to his, not looking forward to his lecture on “believing in yourself” and “doing your best” at all.

His eyes shine with earnesty, open and clear. “Sam. Why don’t you think you’ll do well?”

Your exhaustion halts any chance for one of your trademark dismissive responses to come forth. You can’t stop the truth from escaping your mouth: “Because I don’t deserve to.”

Sympathy fills his gaze, his eyebrows coming together. “Oh… Oh, Sam.”

He squeezes your hand. You give him a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes at all, pulling your hand out from under his as you do so, and finally organise the papers together. You drop your pencil-case on top of the stack, definitely harder than necessary, and cradle the pile to your chest.

“Thanks. I’ll head off now.”

Without a backwards glance, you turn on your heel and stride away.

It’s begun to rain outside. And, lucky for you, your dormitory building is across the other side of campus. Thankfully, the centre of the campus has plenty of undercover areas, so you’ll be protected most of the way. It’s just the last little walk, down a path that separates the dormitory complexes from the proper educational complex, that is completely exposed to the elements.

Your feet take you the way you need to go; having walked this path for so often for so many years, you don’t even need to think about where you’re going. Rain splatters against the brick-paved ground in fat drops, and as you plonk your way through the education complex, the drops begin to fall faster, until it’s practically bucketing down on top of the buildings around you.

_ Jesus  _ Christ _. Exactly what I bloody need. _

It’s raining so hard, now, that the campus’ standing lanterns look as if they’re surrounded by a halo. Since the noise above your head and all around you is deafening, you don’t hear the clomping feet behind you, until a voice shouts, very near to your ear: “Sam!”

“FUCK!” you yell, jumping backwards and straight into the downpour. The man, tall, pulls you back underneath by the arm.

You breathe heavily up at Tobias, who is panting. Over his shoulder is a small bag, undoubtedly holding the books he had back in the library. He looks down at you, the light around you reflected in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, for what happened, back there.”

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s on me.”

Despite the sincerity in your voice, his face scrunches up in regret. “No, it’s mine,” he speaks loudly. “I know better than to pry. And you’re not in the best place to be discussing heavy topics right now. You need to sleep.”

You nod your head, then motion to the beginning of the path that leads back to the dormitory complex. “I’m down in the dorms. Again, I’m sorry for what happened. I’ll see you Thursday?”

“Let me walk you back to your building?” he queries, instead of confirming your next one-on-one. This request stops you, and you blink up at him in confusion.

“B- buh… you’re gonna get wet?” you state, unable to understand why he wants to walk with you.

“So are you,” he points out. He lifts up his other arm; slung over it is his leather jacket. “And I didn’t see any umbrella outside the library.”

“Well, didn’t exactly know it was going to start pouring down,” you say with a smile, scuffing one foot against the pavers.

A beat of silence passes.

“Only if you don’t mind?” you tentatively ask, looking up at him with worry.

His face breaks out into a glowing smile. “Of course not, Sam. Here.”

You move to stand by him; you only just come up past his shoulder, so it’s easy for him to take his leather jacket and sling it so it just covers his head… but it doesn’t exactly cover yours.

You realise you’ll have to press closer to him so it can cover your head.

In fact, you realise…  _ you’re pressing right against his side. _

You hope, you really really hope, that he can’t see the blush on your cheeks in the darkness of the night. Aware of the height difference, he positions himself slightly behind you, so your head is near his left shoulder; at this distance, it’s almost as if his arm is around your waist, pulling you against him.

You can feel the heat of his body through the soft wool jumper, and it spreads through you like fire. The two of you begin to walk, soon coming underneath the full force of the sky above you.

It’s like you’re both children again, because you can feel a huge sense of glee come over you as you run in an effort to get out of the rain as fast as possible; Tobias’ laugh reverberates through his chest as he follows suit, trying his best to keep the wind from getting lifting the jacket upwards.

“Oh god!” you yelp, as the jacket is ripped out of his left hand; you snatch at it with your own left hand and bring it snug around your shoulder, forcing yourself even closer to Tobias in the process.

Since his left arm is now unoccupied, you’re dimly aware of it hanging awkwardly behind your back. Letting your inhibitions go, and the childish happiness take over, you grab his hand and bring it so it’s around your shoulders.

He slows slightly in his jogging. You can tell he’s hesitant about the movement -  _ what if someone sees us?  _ \- but he doesn’t have time to ponder the action before a flash of lightning illuminates the campus around you.

A squeal escapes your mouth, and you urge Tobias forward with you. You both start jogging faster, and you blink through some of the stray drops of water smacking against your face.

_ There it is! _

Ahead of you, the dormitory complex comes into view, fully lit from lanterns and floodlights on the sides of the buildings. All the visual information is secondary to feeling the warmth of Tobias on your right, and his hand clasping your shoulder on your left.

You feel so safe under here, despite how wet you’re beginning to get. Tucked away, protected from the stresses of the outside world, it feels like the pair of you can face anything together. You suppose you are, running through the thunderstorm at three o’clock in the morning. Which is definitely the best way to get a cold, right before exam period.

Your dormitory building is the first one on the right. Steering Tobias towards it, you both manage to stumble underneath the little awning that protects the glass double door; Tobias shoulders it inwards, and you both finally stop in the building lobby, panting with the adrenaline rush and cardio workout.

You let go of your side of the jacket, and reach up to mop water from your face, smearing wet hair across your forehead. Doing this, you feel Tobias’ hand still on your shoulder.

“Good lord. That was… wow,” you pant, looking up at Tobias and grinning. He does likewise, gazing down at you with a kind sparkle in his eyes. He gently takes his hand off your shoulder, fingers dragging slightly.

As if he doesn’t want to lose the contact you both have.

Feeling a pang of disappointment once his hand has gone, you now push back your hair to give your hand something else to do, rather than to hold the stack of pages to your chest like a new, nervous student.

“Thank you for coming back with me, Tobias,” you murmur, smiling up at him.

He returns the smile, shifting the bag on his shoulder. “Of course. I didn’t want you walking back alone, especially not this late at night.”

“And,” he adds with a glance out the front door, “in this weather, too.”

You giggle. “Yeah. God, that jacket didn’t do too much. You won’t be running out there much longer, will you?”

He chuckles. “No… no.” Then, he takes one of his trademark deep breaths, and lets the air escape his lungs in a rush as he looks to you, softness in his eyes and on his face.

Embarrassed, you glance to your feet. Then back up again, to give Tobias a glowing smile, full of the warmth you feel in your chest.

“Goodnight, Tobias.”

His responding smile makes your heart soar. “Goodnight, Sam.”

You both turn: you, pulling out your identification card for the elevator; him, towards the glass double door. You share a tender smile, one to yourself, at how utterly at home and peaceful he makes you feel.

You know, even with the stress and your insomnia plaguing you, that tonight you’d finally get the night of sleep you’ve been deserving for so long.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to the lovely [i_dwell_in_darkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_dwell_in_darkness) for their recent work that inspired me with its emotive and beautiful poetry. thank you, you have no idea how much your work truly means to me.  
> 2020 has been a year. and it seems fitting that i finally upload this chapter, which i had lost mojo for. it is a bit shorter, but it's the ending i wanted to go for since the beginning. it's bittersweet, but i hope it gives you a bit of warmth and comfort during this time. i cannot thank everyone enough for the support and love you've given my writing - it means the world to me, to have my creativity validated in the way it has been. thank you so much!!  
> i hope the new year brings some more happy times rather than bad times to you. feel free to reach out to me (on either twitter or tumblr) if you need someone to speak to.  
> much love, lou <3

Blessed cool, fresh air fills your lungs as you escape the damned confines of the examination hall, finally free of the crushing stress that’s made you almost wrench the hair out of your head more times than you can count over the last month. The sun shines down on you, a gentle warmth from the universe that seems to know the great sense of relief and peace in your chest.

That is, until Meg crashes into you, letting out a yell of excitement.

“We did it! Oh my god, we DID it!” she proclaims, brown curls bouncing as she pumps her fist into the air, her other hand gripping your shoulder.

“Meg! I told you before to tone it the hell down,” you exclaim, trying to still her excited jumping. She grins at you, ignoring the grunts and shoves from the stream of your fellow master’s students, and brings you into a crushing hug.

“Finally,  _ finally _ … Smell that, Sam?”

She pulls back, a glint in her eyes. “The smell of freedom! I’ve missed it so much, you have  _ no _ idea.”

She claps her arm around your shoulders; always the ignorant type, you have to be the one who steers her out of the bustle of the crowd to a little ways down from the hall, so you’re not making everyone move around you like a rock in the sea. The both of you walk in companionable silence, with you offering ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ on behalf of Meg.

When you come to a stop, you glance back to the crowd of chattering students. “Man… another semester done,” you muse, noticing how some people are headed to the sunshine in the park, while others head for the food joints scattered around the campus.

“Doesn’t feel real, huh?” Meg agrees, joining you in the people-watching. Once again, she goes quiet.

You glance sidelong at her, brow furrowing. “Uh… Meg? Are you dying?”

A crooked smile comes across her lips; she giggles, squeezing your shoulder. “Just enjoying this great emotion, the one that’s called… what? Happiness?”

“Absence of stress?” you offer, with a smile in return.

“Yeah, y’know I think that’s what it is. Anyways, I’m gonna be meeting up with Danny soon - d’you wanna go grab a bite or something before? Peak lunch hour, we may as well.”

Ruminating on the offer, you pause. “No… I don’t think so. I gotta do something, so I’ll catch you tonight?”

Meg gives you a grin, an inkling of understanding in her gaze. “Sure, hot stuff. Go get ‘em.”

The English building is a myriad of tight corridors and offices, with carpeted floors but an airy lightness. Or maybe that’s just you feeling something other than crushing doubt about study.

Due to complications with the university’s exam timetables, the English exam had been shunned to the end of the exam period - which is  _ exactly _ what you needed - but now that it’s done, you can finally rejoice and let yourself unwind for some time, before the next semester kicks back up again.

With every step, you feel your chest finally loosening. It’s still unbelievable to you, that you’d be done with the shitshow that is end-of-semester examinations, but as you round the corner of the last corridor before your destination, you know with certainty that it’s all over.

Tobias’ door is open, and you can see him leant over his desk, standing with his hands drifting between stacks of papers across the dark mahogany surface.

His office is exactly what you’d expect of an English professor who reads poetry and historical novels. The frosted glass windows and modern, deep blue door is a stark contrast to the classic wooden office aesthetic. The only thing remotely modern inside the office is his laptop, opened and shoved to the edge of the desk and away from the papers; his walls are lined with bookshelves stacked to the brim with all kinds of novels and historical recounts. Opposite to the desk, he has plush grey lounges surrounding a coffee table, with a patterned rug set underneath.

He’s the epitome of the “esteemed, serious university professor who’s really a kind, youthful soul” trope.

You rap your knuckles gently against the open door. He mumbles, “Come in… just a moment.”

“No worries, professor,” you say with a grin, clasping your hands in front of you as you step into the room.

Tobias’ head whips up. “Sam!” he exclaims, straightening up as a smile blossoms across his face. “I didn’t expect you, particularly not right after the exam finished.”

“Yeah, well… I just wanted to come by and say thank you. I definitely wouldn’t have made it through all of this if it wasn’t for your help. It really does mean a lot.”

Tobias’ smile turns bashful in response, one hand scratching the back of his neck. “Really, Sam, it’s what I’m here for.”

A moment of silence passes, a comfortable awkwardness that seems all too familiar when you’re around him. Unsure of what to say next, you clear your throat to break the silence.

“I should go-”

“I need to take-”

You both speak, eliciting a small laugh from the professor when he realises what’s happened. “Uhm, well…” he begins, and you motion for him to continue, “I was just saying… I need to take a break from all this… lovely work. I always like to take a little walk, would you care to join?”

Your cheeks warm. “Sure, that’d be really cool. I always like to do something active after an exam, so that’s… really cool,” you finish lamely, voice trailing off.

“Wonderful. I’ll just get my things.”

A short walk from the university campus is a local botanical park, a small park built by the city council some years ago. Every once in a while, they organise showcases or exhibits of certain plants; desert, rainforest, locale-specific, that kind of thing. Recently, it was announced that there was a sunflower field, one you could walk through and get lost in.

You’ve been meaning to see it for some time, but only now are you entering the field on the gravel path that crunches pleasantly under your feet. The flowers stand taller than you, the open faces basking in the warm, midday sunlight. The yellow glows against the blue sky, the foliage of green surrounding you bright. You can see some bees buzzing between the individual plants, and birds chirp closeby.

“You know, sunflowers are my favourite flower,” you muse, fingers grasping around the stem of a shorter flower as you give it a sniff. Tobias, as lost in the natural beauty as you, hums appreciatively. “I’ve always liked them, too. So bright and airy, really reminds me of a time spent away on holiday.”

You meander side by side through the path, comfortable in each other’s company. A friendly closeness is between the two of you as your attention is absorbed by the natural beauty that surrounds you; the tall stalks of the sunflowers hides you both, and it’s within this privacy that you notice the aroma of the flowers floating through the air, gently down to you.

“Do you get many breaks, Tobias?” you inquire, slowly stopping and turning to him. Dressed in business-casual slacks and a white shirt, he turns to you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Not really, no,” he sighs. “Too in love with my work, I guess. It’s a bit of a flaw of mine.”

“A good flaw, though,” you assure him, smiling. He gives a little shrug in response, earning a giggle from you. You both pause and look at one another for a moment, unable to find small talk to continue the casual conversation.

Before you can stop yourself, a jumble of words pours forth; words you’ve been meaning to say for so long, but words you’ve never had the courage to say:

“Tobias… thank you, so much. You’ve helped me out so much and I don’t know how I would have done any of this without you. You’re amazing, like… you’re genuinely one of the sweetest people and most helpful people I’ve ever met. I know I sound like a broken record, but seriously, thank you. I-”

Tears fill your eyes, grateful tears, and as you sniffle with the emotion bubbling over in your chest Tobias steps closer to you. His hands come to rest on your forearms, holding them in a gentle embrace.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, leaning down to get your attention. He’s rubbing your right arm in a soothing motion, with a small smile.

“God, I’m sorry, this probably isn’t what you need,” you say shakily, using the heel of your hand to wipe away the tears.

“No, no, no. Don’t do that, Sam. It’s okay, I know this time is stressful. It’s okay.”

His affirmation and consoling actions make the tears fall even faster. Considering the lack of catharsis you’ve been experiencing lately, it only seems right that your mind decided to choose today, and  _ now _ , of all times and places to put on the cry-fest. You were hoping this would have happened tonight, where you could have a good sob and healthy release of emotions, but not right in front of the professor you’re infatuated with.

He tries to lighten the mood by jokingly saying, “It’s not like you’re the first student who’s broken down in front of me, anyways. I’m used to it, so don’t worry.”

You let out a shaky laugh, and take in a large breath. “That’s it,” he says reassuringly, thumbs now stroking both your forearms in gentle touch. “Here, come here.”

Your heart starts pounding as he pulls you in for an embrace; with every fibre of your being, you hold the tears in, determined not to get any marks on his white shirt. Your arms automatically wrap around him, in a tight embrace. While his form is thin, he radiates warmth and his physically hard edges hold a softness about them; it’s a hug of comfort, a bear hug, his taller form encasing yours completely.

His hand is rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. Warmth is in your chest, and you know for certain that this, right here and right now, is the most comfortable you’ve ever felt in your life. There’s something oddly poetic about the man who smells like summer embracing you in the sunflower field, the soothing motion of his hand on your back calming your thundering pulse.

Taking a shuddering breath in through your nose, you’re transported to an old library; quiet, the sun’s rays through high windows illuminating oak wood and leather-bound books both worn and new. It is a library of warmth, and comfort. One that has no time limits, one where the sun shines steadfast and never sets. Where the comfortable nooks, hidden behind rows of winding words, allow a break from the madness and insanity of every day life.

The tears have stopped, and your eyes are closed. The warm chest beneath your cheek moves steadily, the large palm resting on your upper back a pleasant weight. His other hand is wrapped around your waist, effectively bringing you closer to him.

Unlinking your hands from behind his back, you slowly pull backwards to gaze up at him, a watery smile adorning your face. A halo of sunlight streams from behind him; even with the brightness, you can still see his eyes that shine with kindness.

They’re getting bigger; he’s slowly leaning downwards, as if unsure of what he should do. The magnetic connection that’s blossomed between the two of you for this semester only grows stronger and urges you both closer together. It seems as if his eyes are lost in yours, entranced in the beauty he’s beholding.

You think, for a brief moment, about how it is going to feel when his lips find purchase against yours, when the chaste and forbidden action is made. Pressure builds up in your belly at the thought of it,  _ he’s so close now, just tilt your face up and- _

His lips press against the skin of your forehead. Ignoring the slight disappointment in your chest, you instead relish the contact as happiness blooms in your chest. A sigh escapes your lungs, and as quickly as the touch happens it is over.

He pulls away, his large hands placed on the sides of your waist. You both gaze at one another, your face upturned and shadowed by his silhouette, his face still framed by the sunlight from behind his head. You’re both silent as you regard one another, an appreciation for one another’s company shining through your eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice barely audible to your own ears. Tobias’ mouth quirks upwards in a smile, his eyes crinkling.

With a tenderness, he lifts one hand to cup your cheeks; with a start, you realise that tears are once again slipping from your eyes, although without sadness or stress. His thumb gently wipes a falling tear away, and you lean into his touch.

“You’re an amazing individual, Sam,” he murmurs, thumb moving absentmindedly. After a pause, he speaks again, albeit with a serious undertone to his voice. “I hope you do take time for yourself. You’ve more than earned the rest.”

You hum a response, too busy with feeling the calloused skin on your cheek to properly acknowledge his words.

“Sam,” he speaks, voice firmer. Your eyes flicker open, and you look up at his now pensive expression. “Yeah?” you speak, eyebrows furrowing in question.

“We can’t do this anymore. I know it’s going to be hard, but… these relationships,  _ this _ relationship, can’t go much further.”

“Yeah… I know,” you sigh, shoulders slumping. His hands find purchase on your arms once again, calling you to look back up to him.

“For what it’s worth, whoever you get with is going to be lucky. You truly are one of the most dedicated and kind people I’ve met. Trust me on it.”

You smile. “I’ll try. I mean, you know self-acceptance isn’t exactly my strong point.”

A huff of amusement escapes his nose. His gaze turns sincere, and his hands rub your shoulders reassuringly.

“No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you. Whenever you need.”

You can sense the finality in his voice, but you still smile despite the slight heaviness you can feel in your chest. “Yeah. Thank you, Tobias.”

The sun seems to shine a bit brighter, it’s warmth dissipating thoughts regarding the future, as it urges you to focus on the here and now; standing, amidst trees of vivid green and gold, with a man who’s brought you so much joy and peace within such a short amount of time. Even though something is never bound to happen, you can feel happiness in your chest at his promised support.

With a small smile, you close your eyes and breathe in the blissful scent of sunflowers and the fresh breeze that cocoons you both within their gentle grasp. For at least this one, perfect moment, you can feel at peace, with his warm hands on your arms that tether you to your body.

For this one perfect moment, you can imagine the sunflowers turning their faces to the two of you, basking in the serenity of your embrace, basking in the warmth radiating from your chest like the summer sun.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! <3
> 
> i'm on both twitter and tumblr under the same username :))


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